LITMIR.BIZ

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so of course we—”

      “Oh, stop it. He’s a prince with buckets of money, right?”

      “I don’t think I like the way you say that.”

      “Too bad. The point is, if he didn’t want to be with you, he could have stayed at the Four Seasons. You’d have had no idea he was in town. He wanted to be with you. You want to be with him. It’s what I said at the first. You need to talk to him.”

      “But I told you, this whole thing with him and me was always with the understanding that it was only for a little while.”

      “And maybe that was your mistake right there.”

      “What do you mean, my mistake? He’s my friend and I trust him and I asked him to do me this very special favor. That’s all it was supposed to be.”

      “So? Now it’s more.”

      “No. You’re not listening. I’m honestly not looking for forever right now.”

      “Oh, honey. Maybe you’re not. But your heart? That’s a whole other story.”

      * * *

      Dami called at four-thirty.

      The minute she heard his voice saying he was on the way, Lucy realized what an idiot she’d been. No matter what Tabby thought, she did not need to talk to Dami about how she wanted more from this thing between them.

      She didn’t want more. She was happy with things as they were. Yes, all right, she would be sad when he left. But that was the way it went. That was life. You needed to revel in every moment. You needed to get through the heartache.

      And move on.

      He took her out to dinner at a great steak house on the Upper East Side and they shared a bottle of very expensive cabernet sauvignon. Lucy ate almost all of her filet mignon—not to mention a prosciutto-and-melon appetizer, cold asparagus salad and a baked potato the size of Long Island. They split a slice of New York cheesecake for dessert.

      The restaurant was exclusive enough that no paparazzi popped up to take their picture while they plowed through the huge, delicious meal. They laughed together and toasted Viv’s recovery and Tabby’s new man and the holiday season in general.

      Then he took her back to his place and straight to bed. He made love to her slowly, looking in her eyes. And when he whispered her name at the end, well, she could almost have wished she did want forever right now.

      Tuesday, like Monday, went by too fast. Lucy went to the hospital in the morning while Dami worked. Again his meetings went on and on. Lucy had time to buy an extra litter box for Boris. Then she went up to Dami’s, got the cat and took him back to her place. He kept her company while she worked some more on the detailed sketch of Alice’s wedding dress.

      They stayed in that night. And in the morning when she woke up, he wasn’t in the bed. But she could smell coffee brewing and something delicious cooking.

      Breakfast in bed? Did it get any better? They were going to have a perfect day, lazing around without any clothes on, maybe getting up later and doing something festive.

      How about a tree for her place? She grinned at the thought. They could get decorations, too. And then they could put up the tree together.

      Her grin faded.

      And then when he’s gone, won’t I love that? whined the sad little voice in her head. Every time she looked at the tree she would have to remember this last perfect day, the beautiful time they’d had choosing it and decorating it together.

      Uh-uh. Forget the tree. Bad idea. Better just to stay in bed late, make love a lot and go somewhere nice for dinner. And then make love for half the night. That would be a perfect goodbye.

      Goodbye. The word seemed to bounce around, echoing, inside her head. Her heart was racing. Her cheeks felt too warm.

      She dragged herself up against the pillows and made herself take slow, deep breaths.

      She was being an idiot and she was stopping that right now.

      Big mistake to start planning out the day. They didn’t need a plan. It would be lovely whatever they did.

      Her breathing evened out and her pulse stopped galloping. There. She was fine. She wasn’t going to break down in front of Dami just because she was beginning to realize she wanted more from him than she’d told him she wanted.

      A whole lot more.

      You need to talk to him, Tabby had said.

      But she wasn’t going to talk to him. It wasn’t fair to put all this emotional crap on him. He hadn’t bargained for anything like this.

      And neither had she, damn it. Neither had she.

      Breathe. Slowly. Deeply.

      It worked. Her tight throat loosened. The pressure behind her eyes eased. The heat in her cheeks cooled. It was fine. She was fine.

      There would be no big scene. She was under control.

      And then she looked over and there he was in the doorway, his eyes low and lazy, his mouth made for kissing, wearing a black silk robe exactly like the one he’d worn on Thanksgiving morning when she’d knocked on his door to ask him to teach her about sex. He carried a footed tray with a carafe of steaming coffee, a covered dish of something wonderful and a crystal bud vase with a sprig of mistletoe sticking out of it.

      All her deep breathing came to nothing. “Oh, Dami...” She burst into tears.

       Chapter Thirteen

      Should he have known this would happen?

      Of course he damn well should have.

      In fact, to be brutally honest, he had known it would come to this. Exactly this. And he’d gone ahead and done what he wanted to do anyway.

      Damien stood in the doorway, holding the tray with the breakfast she would probably never eat, and cursed himself for being a heartless, lust-driven dog. He shouldn’t have come here. He never should have let this thing with them get started in the first place.

      She was his friend, dear to him. She deserved so much—everything.

      Instead he’d had to go and become her lover when he knew himself and knew how it would end: just like this. With her suffering and him hating himself.

      He set down the tray and went to her. “Luce, my darling...”

      She had her head in her hands. Her slim shoulders were shaking. He reached for her and she sagged against him with a lost little sob.

      He gathered her closer, stroked her soft hair. “Shh...” He knew the words to say, the gentle reassurances. “It’s all right. Don’t cry. Everything will work out....”

      “Oh, no.” A gasp, another sob. “I don’t think so.” He felt the warmth of her tears against his throat.

      He cradled her face, tipped it up to him, wiped at her tears with his thumbs. Her eyes glittered, wet. Yearning. Her mouth trembled and he wanted to kiss her, to taste the salt and the wet, to pull the covers away and make love to her again.

      One more time. Before he left.

      He didn’t do what he wanted. For once.

      Her eyes sought something in his face. He doubted she found it. She said, “Dami, I’ve been lying. Lying to you. Lying to me. I thought I could do it. Could just keep on lying until after you’d gone.”

      He did kiss her then. But he kept the kiss chaste, though her mouth trembled, willing, beneath his.

      When he lifted his head, he saw she was on to him. “Kisses can’t keep me from saying it,” she whispered.

      “Luce...”

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